The chain of thought
Doesn’t seem to break
And streetlights doesn’t seem to fade
And the pills wouldn’t take.
The broken clock
Adorns the floor,
The faintest whisper
Seems like a knock on the door,

Ubiquitous anxiety
Plays a tug of war
With my cousin of death,
The stares at the ceiling
Grow heavy with each breath,
The page lends a shoulder
The pen a helping hand,
The highway traffic finds its way
To my ear,
And its only darkness I befriend.